So I had chosen cheerleading.

Academics.

Baking.

And I was good at all of them. While my other friends stressed out over playing multiple sports and sat on the bench — I was busy living, doing things that made me happy and doing them well.

It was kind of a family motto.

Do it well, or don't do it at all.

I clenched the steering wheel with both hands. My knuckles turned white, and my fingers cramped, but still I hung on. I wasn't doing anything well right now.

Except breathing. I guess I could count breathing. My therapist always said to focus on the positive. Well, at least my breathing wasn't uneven. Okay, so I was doing that well.

I continued to do that — breathe.

The tears slowly started to dry up, even though the pain was still slicing through my chest. I'd once heard that memory was just as powerful as experiencing something in the present.

Your past really could define your future, if you let it.

Every time you remembered something painful or something exciting, your body responded to it as if it was experiencing it for the first time all over again.

So every time I thought of my dad? Of my parents' death? It was as if I was back in the car, dressed in my cheerleading sweats, falling asleep to Echosmith while our car had been hit head-on by that truck.

He'd fallen asleep.

My dad.

It was my fault he'd been so exhausted that he'd drifted asleep in the first place.

A honking horn jolted me out of my thoughts again.

Seaside.

I was going home.

At least I didn't live in that house anymore. In fact, I was going to make it a point to avoid every single place I'd visited with my parents, because I was done reliving things.

I was already in a living hell.

I didn't need to add to it.

And if Lincoln wanted taffy from the taffy store or anything even remotely related to my old life, he could just kiss my ass.

I pulled back onto the freeway and cranked up the music.

Lincoln Greene would not be my downfall. I would not allow him to make me feel bad about myself. I was done with self-pity — absolutely done — and even though the way he'd treated me made me sick to my stomach, so sick I almost puked onto his shiny expensive shoes, his attitude didn't have to define me.

I wouldn't let it.

My cell phone rang.

Demetri.

"Hey," he said over the car speaker, "I know you won't respond, but I just wanted to let you know that Lyss and I have chocolate cake for you at our place when you get into Seaside. Oh, and she has some clothes for you too, since she's pregnant and can't fit into a damn thing anymore, so make sure you come over. Drive safe!"

I exhaled.

Cake.

Forget Lincoln Greene. Forget Seaside.

Focus on the cake.

Chocolate cake.

My therapist had said I needed goals. Well, my new goal? Eating that cake while giving Lincoln the middle finger in my mind.

I smiled.

Yeah, that would feel good.

CHAPTER SIX

Lincoln

"RAIN." I PULLED INTO TOWN FOR the second time in my life and slowly made my way toward the beach house I'd rented during filming. "Rain, rain, and more rain." It was coming down in buckets, making the dreary morning look like something out of a depressing Gothic novel.

During the summer months, Seaside was a huge tourist destination for people living in Oregon. But the winter was something less to be desired.

And it was October, meaning it was either overcast or raining all the damn time.

The novel called for wet weather.

Well, it was wet all right.

I swerved out of traffic and made my way down A Street, then B, then C. Who the hell named streets after letters?

Finally, I stopped at my destination and turned off the truck.

My new place was a six-bedroom beach house that had fallen on hard times and been recently renovated. The owners had put in a quarter of a million in updates, and were more than thrilled that a movie star was going to be their first renter.

It was white with blue shutters and had a two-story enclosed glass deck that made it possible to sit outside and barbeque without having to develop gills or wear a snorkel.

The outdoor fire pit was also under cover. The view was incredible, and the rent, even though it was high, was still cheaper than staying in Laguna.

I hopped out of my truck and ran toward the front door. The keys jangled when I jammed one into the lock and turned the knob. Then I burst into the house and looked around.

Fully furnished.

Nice.

And alone.

I checked my watch. Where the hell was Dani?

Linc: You in Seaside? Or did you drown?

Dani: Here.

Linc: Okay…are you coming over to help me?

Dani: I don't recall you asking.

Frustrated, I damn near threw my phone against the wall.

Linc: I need help unpacking and grocery shopping. I have a list for you. I may need to laminate it with this weather…

Dani: Fine. Be there in five. I'm stopping over at Demetri's first.

Linc: How about you come here now, and we'll go there together?

Dani: Okay.

Linc: Not even a smiley face?

Dani: Hmm, no, sorry, fresh out of those after I was accused of lying to my family. Thanks for asking though!

Linc: I said I was sorry.

Dani: I know.

Linc: So I'll see you in a few.

Dani: Yup, but I'm driving.

Linc: Okay!

A horn honked in front of my house five minutes later. I ran out and jumped into the passenger side. Shivering, I shook the rain out of my hair.